I wish I could give
you what you want for what you have given me; but when do we get what we
want in exchange for what we give? Our trafficking is a clumsy barter.
A man sells me a sheep, and I pay him in return with my grandfather's
old sextant. This is not quite true for you and me. Love is given and
love is returned. A Dieu--not adieu. Remember that the world is very
big, and that there may be room in it for a few creatures like
Your affectionate godfather,
G. L.
MRS. FAIRFAX
The town of Langborough in 1839 had not been much disturbed since the
beginning of the preceding century. The new houses were nearly all of
them built to replace others which had fallen into decay; there were no
drains; the drinking-water came from pumps; the low fever killed thirty
or forty people every autumn; the Moot Hall still stood in the middle of
the High Street; the newspaper came but once a week; nobody read any
books; and the Saturday market and the annual fair were the only events
in public local history. Langborough, being seventy miles from London
and eight from the main coach-road, had but little communication with
the outside world.
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